Perfidy
by damn.it.to.hell
Summary: AU. Slash. Set after the Battle of Hogwarts in a universe you thought you were familiar with. A lone boy cast aside in Azkaban for reasons nobody can say is brought to Hogwarts where he makes the unlikeliest friends and a first love he never thought he'd have. "You? You're Harry Potter," she said, "Where have they been hiding you?" He thought for a minute, "Nowhere special."
1. Azkaban

**AN:** Greetings and salutations. Hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter one: Azkaban**

It was of course dark.

The full moon hung above a rambunctious sea and all he could hear was a whisper of water hitting rocks. His eye peered through the crack in the wall and he squinted, the light hurting him. But what he saw was nothing in comparison to what pain he was feeling.

They'd arrived; they were here, marching along a bridge that had been crafted only moments ago. There were three of them; walking behind a tall man he had never had the misfortune to lay his eyes upon before. And for a second, one measly second, he could have sworn he looked over at him.

With a gasp he fell to his knees, the fabric providing him with minimal warmth ripped and tore at the edges. He exhaled sharply. Glancing at the bruise that was quickly forming, he groaned and stood to his bony feet. He scraped his nails across the aging wall, adding yet another line to the long list that might as well be ingrained upon him.

For every line had cost him a little more strength each day.

"Lestrange," his hoarse voice called out to the crouched man in the cell opposite and he found himself stumbling forward into the bars that separated the two of them.

Yellow eyes flashed his way in acknowledgement and he nodded.

"Here," his throat rasped. "Ministry. . . here."

Lestrange grabbed at the bars too and pulled himself up; with a grunt he nodded again and tilted his head to the right.

There hovered a cloaked figure with bonier arms than he and an energy that pulled life toward it.

The two men fell back further into their cells before it could get to them, cursing in grunts and puffs of pain. The dark entity closed in on Lestrange and the other man tried to call out but found that he couldn't move.

He felt trapped, scared; trapped and scared – like he was petrified but that couldn't be so. His mind called back for something happy. Anything. Nothing. Something. Anything damn it.

He swallowed hard and held his wand arm out in front of him, as it to shield him from monster. "E-expecto patronum!"

And then a blinding bright light cascaded down the halls and into the cells, swallowing everyone whole. Everyone had flinched and the dark entity had been cast aside.

The man sat down with a huff and caught sight of Lestrange's wide yellow eyes staring right through him.

"My, my, my." There was a feminine chortle. "Minister, who is this man?"

The three people he'd seen earlier had managed to slip in without his noticing and he felt sick and tired; his leg was bleeding and his heart was pumping slower and slower.

"I'm afraid I do not know, Doleres." The minister seemed troubled. "You there! What name belongs to you?"

He glanced over at Lestrange who was still staring through him before taking one last breath and muttering "Harry" before the darkness too him.

* * *

Ever since he was a boy he knew he wasn't a happy person, and the only two people that truly cared about him had up and left. He'd been heartbroken, wishing away the memories he shared with them. The amount of firewhisky he had drank astonished him even now but he supposed he'd do it all over again if he could.

His heart still yearned after all.

But alas, those times were no more and for the past ten years he'd been locked away. He had no recollection of what had happened, why he had been taken, what he'd done – none of it made any sense to him. But what he did know was that he was a wizard and he was in wizard prison.

He was in the worst one of them all; that much was clear. He was fed once a day, sometimes not even that. Wands, clothes, any belongings he'd happened to have at the time were taken from him and he couldn't even remember what they were.

He'd been shoved in a cell five doors from the entrance to another block of cells where he knew other wizards and witched lay suffering also. When he'd been pushed into walking along that particular corridor which would be his next home for many years, no one had recognised him. He remembered that clearly. But he'd recognised them.

Rodolphus Lestrange, a man he'd become quite close with had been there seven years prior to him. Next to him was an empty cell where people came and went. Off to get the _kiss_ , he'd often thought.

He'd seen many familiar faces go through there, some including a lady called Bellatrix and man called Karkaroff. There was another man he had recognised in the cell on his right, Lucius Malfoy. But he couldn't be sure; it had been many years ago. The thought of long blond hair and skeletal face haunted him when he wasn't thinking.

Some of the people had gotten visitors, a family of blonds visited Lucius and he found himself quite envious. There was no one coming for Rodolphus though. He and Rodolphus only had each other.

But he had known each and every face that was housed in that corridor. They were Death Eaters. On some nights he even imagined The Dark Lord himself coming to collect what was his and he'd be whisked along with them. His saviour, he'd thought. The man that had wreaked havoc among the entire wizarding world.

"Tom Riddle," he had pleaded. "Save me you bastard."

But he had never come.

Back in the days where he and Rodolphus could talk normally, he'd quite enjoy their conversations. They talked of the dark arts mostly but every now and then a snippet of Rodolphus' life before all that popped up. Those talks were what kept him up all night.

Memories that weren't his were what had become deeply intertwined within his mind and he used those as his own happy dwellings.

Images of Bellatrix and Rodolphus dressed up to go to a ball, words of true and genuine love flitting across to each other, talks of starting a family and raising a child. A beautiful baby girl they had planned to name after a star – a tradition in the Black family household he had learned.

On many nights he had imagined all this and he too was in pieces when Bellatrix had gotten a place in their corridor. When she had left, he had cried alongside Rodolphus and the two shared in comfort.

He had never understood why Rodolphus was in there. Sweet and kind Rodolphus, the guy that didn't utter a word when he wanted silence, yet the guy that could talk your ears off when he was feeling particularly happy.

Seeing Rodolphus slowly lose himself over the years had been the most antagonising thing of all. He'd learned that he didn't care about himself anymore and all he cared for was his friend. Rodolphus' eyes had glazed over and his speech slowed, and after a while he was sure Ralph was struggling to think too.

It was their fault: the Dementors. They targeted his friend too much. The others had thought it was weird how they would circle him; they claimed a Death Eater who relied upon happiness was strange. But Rodolphus did The Dark Lord's bidding so they left him alone.

They used to circle him too and because the Death Eaters didn't know him either, they had nothing to say.

Now they leave him alone too, but on nasty days they would go straight for him. It was like they knew he was still fighting somewhat. He didn't have many memories and of course all that was left were mostly bad. But he'd had managed to save his memories of Ralph.

He would rather do the unthinkable than destroy what he remembered of Rodolphus with a glint in his eyes and the man who could both talk you to death and excite you.

The first time a man from the Ministry came, he felt angry and scared. But the man had taken someone else and left shortly after, never returning for a number of years to that block of cells. But then they had come and taken four people, Bellatrix included and now they were back again.

He feared they would take Rodolphus from him.

And he couldn't have that.

When he came to he couldn't see his friend anywhere, just the backs of three people. They were mumbling and muttering about him until the Minister turned and realised he was awake.

"Ah, Harry." The man put on a tight lipped smile. "We've brought you to a room off this corridor. Now, we'd like to have some words with you if you don't mind terribly."

He tried to size up the Minister and the two people he had brought with him but he couldn't move. And that's when he saw that his hands were bound with familiar shackles that prevented him from doing magic.

"Just a precaution," a woman giggled to his right.

He looked over at her and saw she was wearing the most hideous shade of pink. He scrunched his nose and then she immediately looked down at him and her eyes hardened.

"A bit of respect –!"

"Now now Delores." The Minister interrupted. "The man has been through many years of being tormented by the Dementors."

The woman sniffed and turned away completely.

Another man offered him a glass of water and the two stared at each other, he could have sworn he knew him but he couldn't pinpoint who it was. He was a tall man with chocolate skin and he wore a blue had that matched his robes. He carried about such an atmosphere that he thought the man should have been in charge instead.

Reaching out for the glass of water, his shackles clanged together causing him to flinch and nearly drop the cup but when he realised it wasn't going anywhere he immediately brought it to his lips.

And he drank for what felt like the first time in years.

His eyes welled up.

"Now Harry, I've asked my top researchers to look into you and they can't find a single thing." The Minister looked wary. "Tell us who you are and why you're here."

He thought for a moment. Why was he here?

"Potter," he mumbled. "I don't. . . know why I'm here."

Three heads turned to him at once and a heavy silence fell upon them. The pink lady was gasping and the Minister looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Have I done some. . .thing wrong?"


	2. Starting Afresh

**AN:** Yo! Hopefully no one read the first chapter before I had chance to fix the mistakes. I do apologise if my stories aren't to your taste, I'm not fond of them either. I have three chapters already written, almost four. But anyways, enjoy! ^-^

 **Chapter two: Starting Afresh**

Without anytime to ask questions, Harry had been whisked off to St Mungo's where there had been healers fawning over him. They had be making sure he every bone that was broken was fixed, any bruise or cut was mended and they had fed him a variety of potions. He wished he didn't have to see another one again.

Harry hadn't much time to say his thanks before he was once more whisked off to make sure his appearance was immaculate.

"You look like the boy you are now," The Minister had commented when someone had escorted Harry into his office.

He sat down with ease for the first time in many years and he honestly felt overwhelmed. His mind was filled with many questions and he couldn't help but ask as many as his weak voice could.

"W-why am. . . I here?"

The Minister looked alarmed. "Harry, my dear boy, why do you speak like that?"

He had spoken quickly and Harry had found it hard to understand what he had just said but the Minister just shook his head sadly and spoke slower.

"You're here in my office because something terribly unjust has happened. We as a community need to make amends right away."

"Why?"

"As grave as this situation may be we are still unsure as to what happened but you must have been wrongly imprisoned! How old are you now, dear boy?"

"Eight-eighteen, Sir."

"No it is I who should be addressing you as sir." The Minister took a shaky breath. "He Who Must Not Be Named is dead. He was killed by a boy, Neville Longbottom after The Chosen one made no appearance like prophesised many years ago. So the headmistress would like to welcome you to her school for a final catch up year the previous students of seventh year missed."

"Me? S-school?"

Harry wasn't sure what to think. He'd spent so long not exercising his mind like he should have been so he was too far behind. He knew spells – complicated ones, he knew potions and knew simple muggles things like maths but he was nowhere near the level of a seventh year.

"You'll be attending Hogwarts, sorted into one of four houses and taught under the finest headmistress since Sir Albus Dumbledore died."

Albus Dumbledore, now that was a familiar name.

Harry wondered who he was.

The Minister stood, "If you'll take my arm we can be off to Hogwarts within minutes."

"Apparation?" Harry guessed and the Minister looked bewildered but nodded. There was a shift in the air and the magic sent them to just outside Hogwarts grounds.

Harry was awed by the sheer size and beauty of the castle and his love for it continued to grow when someone gigantic came to guide them inside and he got chance to gawp at the inside of it to.

"Fantastic place, 'ogwarts." The giant of a man said as he stopped next to a statue. "Right, 'ere we are."

Looking at the statue made Harry wonder just what was so special about but he knew instantly as it began to move and spiral upwards.

"Quick Harry, up you get. The headmistress will take care of you from here." The Minister said his goodbyes and Harry just managed to fit through the gap before it closed.

There were old stairs that looked like they were hardly used and as he climbed up them he realised why. He'd just entered the most bizarre place he'd ever seen.

There was a phoenix sitting above some ashes and jars that held butterflies and magical artefacts littered all over the room. Harry would be happy enough to look through them all day but a lady wearing a pointed hat blocked his view.

She peered at him. "You look like your father but you have your mother's eyes. Come in Potter, take a seat."

He was guided to a cluttered desk and sat down, trying to not stare at a portrait that wouldn't stop staring at him. The witch who he assumed was the headmistress sat down opposite him and coughed until he caught her eyes.

There was something quite feline about this witch but Harry dismissed it and stuck out a hand. "W-well met. I'm H-Harry."

He almost coughed and spluttered all over the place. "H-Harry Potter."

The witch regarding him with careful eyes and shook his hand. "Well met, Potter. I am Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor Minerva McGonagall. I also teach Transfiguration and I'm head of Gryffindor House."

She let go of his hand a second later than he had liked but he nodded and waited for her to speak some more.

She grabbed a piece of paper and glanced over it. "I understand that you've had a, erm, difficult five years in Azkaban. But we shall offer any additional support that you may need to get back on track and then you can take your exams at the end of the year."

"T-that won't be necessary P-professor. . .I'm still trying t-to learn how to sp-speak," Harry's throat was still raw with pain.

A bottle appeared in her hands, "Drink this. It's a Pepper Up potion that should make you feel better. Practice will help you to speak properly but for now we must concentrate on getting you sorted. We'll do this before everyone arrives."

Harry drank the bottle rather quickly and almost choked.

"Easy does it, Potter!"

"Sorry."

He placed the bottle on the desk and watched her, waiting for his next instruction. He felt eyes on him and he looked up at the painting but as he did, he saw it was empty. He frowned. What on earth?

"Come. The Sorting Hat is in the Great Hall waiting for the train to arrive. We shouldn't be too long." The two of them got to their feet and exited the office.

Harry couldn't recall ever being in such a beautiful place but then again he couldn't remember much. "C-could you explain to me the houses?"

Minerva McGonagall looked at him and for the first time she was seeing the young boy that he was, the young boy that should have walked through those doors seven years ago.

"Yes, though they are all four honourable houses each and every one of them has many prejudices against them." She said. "Gryffindor is a house for those who have bravery, daring, nerve and chivalry as their personality traits. Hufflepuffs value hard work, are dedicated, patient, loyalty and fair in play. Ravenclaws are intelligent and value knowledge and wit. While Slytherins are ambitious, cunning and resourceful."

They had arrived outside the Great Hall and Harry almost gasped. It was as beautiful as the rest of the school, maybe more so. And he found himself struggling to tare his eyes away from the ceiling.

"So what house do you think you'll be in?" McGonagall asked as she led him to a stool.

"I don't know yet."

"Right, please take a seat. I'll place the Sorting Hat upon your head and he'll decide what house you're in."

Harry sat and wondered how the hat would decide what house he would be in but didn't have enough time to think as it was placed on his head.

He felt prodding in his mind and then the words "Harry Potter" were whispered into his ear but no one was behind him.

"I've been waiting for you, waiting to put you in a house. My, my you've been busy." The voice continued and Harry realised it was the hat.

"Legilimens." He said as he felt a particularly sharp jab inside his skull.

"You're smart, Ravenclaw would suit you well," the hat continued to whisper. "But you've already been associating yourself with Slytherins, what harm could that be?"

"Y-you haven't talked about the other houses."

That hat seemed to laugh. "You'd do well in all of the houses but Gryffindor would hold you back while Hufflepuff would let you attack."

"So the verdict is?"

"BETTER BE SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was removed with haste and Harry turned to see McGonagall looking pale, he asked her what the matter was.

"Nothing, Potter. It's just you come from a long line of Gryffindors so it was a little bit of a shock. Come with me, I'll take you to your common room and you can meet your head of house there."

Harry's head was almost spinning. So the hat thought he was cunning, resourceful and ambitious, did he? Harry wasn't so sure about that but if the hat thought it would suit him then so be it.

It turns out that the Slytherin common room was down in the dungeons where it was cold and dingy, beneath the lake according to the headmistress. Though, all he could think about was how it must suit him because of where he'd spent his last years.

Was the hat playing a cruel joke?

"In you go, Potter, Professor Snape is waiting."


	3. Fraternising With The Enemy

Chapter three:

If there was anything Harry had learned from his first day out of Azkaban it was that people were going to react differently to him.

The Ministry were all aghast and the Minister was apologetic for something Harry assumed he had no knowledge about.

The man that had escorted them into the school, who he learned was called Rubeus Hagrid, wasn't aware of who he was but looked at him strangely enough.

The headmistress regarded him as a human being, someone who desired to be treated like one. But for a minute, Harry had seen a flicker of something else. She had known his parents, that much was clear, but everything else was unknown.

And then came Snape. Severus Snape, a man that looked like water frozen over on a cold December morning. A man that began to regard him like he was nothing more than something beneath his shoe. But Harry had noticed a quick change when they actually looked each other in the eyes.

Snape looked haunted, first and foremost but then something changed. "You," he paused uncertain. "Have dead man's eyes."

"Azkaban," Harry had said. "P-please tell no one."

Severus Snape nodded and then his expression became cold once more. "Well Potter, I'm your head of house and I'll be teaching you potions."

Harry stuck out his hand, "W-well met. I'm Harry."

The man paused, his expression didn't change but already Harry was noticing a difference. "I know who you are, Potter. Everyone in the wizarding world does, keep up. As I was saying, I'll be teaching you potions. Goodness knows you'll need all the extra help you can get to pass your exams next year."

Harry just inclined his head and let the professor continue talking.

"There aren't many eighth years left this year so there will be fewer pupils than normal. You'll be sharing a dorm with the other eighth year boys, the girls dorm separately. You will attend breakfast each morning, and sit on your house table. The same will be said for the other meals."

Harry nodded once more.

"There will be no tomfoolery and you must attend all classes and help earn points so that your fellow classmates and yourself may win the house cup. Any behaviour at risk to rule breaking will endanger your place at this school. Is this understood?"

"Yes, p-professor."

Snape stilled. "Good luck. Now get changed into your uniform and off to the Great Hall with you. The first years will be getting sorted any minute."

Harry had changed and then left in the same direction he had arrived, hoping he wouldn't get lost. He took the time to further examine the castle as he went. There were portraits, whose eyes followed him along with their muttering. He tried his best to ignore it but when a knight yelled out to him he quickened his steps.

The doors were just ahead but then he noticed the headmistress leading a group of first years to them and he almost lost his footing as he called out for her to wait.

"Potter? What are you doing?" Her voice had risen a little. "Has Severus kept you all this time?"

Harry had reached her and nodded, he looked over at the new students and saw them staring. They had all fell silent and it made Harry nervous.

"Right, Potter come with us and quickly go to the Slytherin table. Now for the rest of you, follow me."

The doors opened and hundreds of pairs of eyes rested upon them. McGonagall lead the first years up to the front and Harry, not knowing where the Slytherin table was, sat down in panic on the first table he saw. Many heads turned to face him, many frowns and more muttering but Harry just stared ahead at the sorting.

If there was anywhere he looked out of place, it was on that table. He noticed everyone's ties were the same shade of yellow and even though the majority seemed friendly, they stared at his tie with some level of caution.

"Hey," the person to his left whispered to him.

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"This is the Hufflepuff table."

"And?"

She furrowed her brows. "And your table isn't this one. The Slytherin one is the one on the far right."

"Why can't people sit on different house tables?" He whispered back.

"That's just not how it works."

"Why?"

"I don't know!"

There voices had risen a bit and it had caught more attention.

"Potter! Abbott! Keep your voices down; the sorting is still taking place." McGonagall said while holding a piece of parchment.

Snape stood up and looked at Harry, "And may I suggest you take a seat at your own table, Potter."

The girl, Abbott, gave him a friendly nudge and he got up and walked to the Slytherin table. Names were now being called out once more but people watched as Harry sat down next to a second year boy on his own table and smiled at him, which earned him a few funny looks.

Once everyone sat down, the headmistress gave a few words of encouragement and then the feast started,

Harry had never seen so much food before, the thought both excited him and made him feel sick at the same time. So he played it safe and helped himself to a small portion. This too earned him funny looks as the first years piled their plates sky high and still ate like they were royalty.

"Professor McGonagall said your name was Potter?" A girl who looked about his age asked from across from him. He nodded.

"Where have they been hiding you?"

Harry forced out a gargled laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "N-nowhere special."

He offered his hand, "Well met. I'm Harry."

She took it but her eyes had widened. "My name is Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson. You? You're Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded once more and returned to eating his food. He'd picked out the plainest he could find. It would be his first day eating a decent meal; he didn't want to throw up.

"Erm, Harry? May I call you Harry?"

He looked at Pansy, "Sure."

Pansy wasn't sure what to say. "Erm –"

"Y-you don't have to say anything, it's fine."

He had finished eating and now he desperately wanted to sleep somewhere decent.

"That's not it. Why, erm, why are you in Slytherin?"

He looked at her strangely, "Why are you?"

She thought for a minute. "Because that's what was expected of me and that's who I became. What about yourself?"

He offered a rare smile, "The hat told me so."

She laughed a little and then gestured to her side where three boys were sat and then to her other side where there was a girl.

"This is Daphne Greengrass." She pointed to the girl before turning to her other side. "And this is Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini."

Harry's head shot up and looked at the blond boy, "Malfoy?"

"Yeah, what about it?" The blond spat out.

"N-nothing, I just. . . I kind of knew your father."

The boy in between him and Pansy shook his head quickly and mouthed something Harry couldn't make out. The rest of them all made the same faces but Draco's eyes hardened.

"You knew him how exactly?"

Harry thought for a moment before saying that they were neighbours. He hoped that if wasn't a dead give away but realised once he had said it that it was fairly obvious. Maybe they wouldn't believe him.

"I'm pretty sure I would recognise you if we were neighbours."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Right," Malfoy looked dubious but let it drop.

"Well anyway guys this is Harry Potter," Pansy managed to say before anymore interruptions.

Everyone who heard turned to stare at him, and then the whispers started. Harry didn't blame them but he wished they would be quiet.

"Just call me Harry."

"So, erm Harry." Pansy said. "What were you doing before you came here? Were you at another school?"

"No I've never been to high school before."

Their mouths dropped open. It was Theodore who spoke this time. "You do know about magic don't you?"

"Why else would he be here, Nott?" The Greengrass girl huffed.

They started debating between themselves and Harry didn't want to interrupt them, he chose to look at the teacher's table to see who was there.

Some he recognised, like McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid but he couldn't name the others until his eyes laid upon a haggard figure that was slumped in his chair. His face was scarred, his hair with wisps of grey and he wore an all too familiar suit.

Harry was looking at a man who calls himself Mooney when he thinks no one is listening, who sits alone most nights and reads, who always has chocolate on him in case of emergencies.

"Remus," he whispered.

"Oh you know him?" Pansy asked.

Harry must have looked haggard himself. "A long time ago."

A silence fell upon them.


	4. I 'murdered' my puppy

**AN:** Hey, sorry for any confusion but Harry has been in Azkaban for a total of five years which mean he arrived there when he was just 13. And yes, when I was writing it I didn't picture Harry like I normally would so I picked out a different look for him. Hope you enjoy ^-^

 **Chapter four: I 'murdered' my puppy**

He vaguely recalled a night he shared with Rodolphus on his first day in Azkaban. The Dementors had led the way into the darkened corridor. Harry remembered feeling scared, with a weight on his chest that would never be lifted as long as he was in prison. And the next thing he knew, he was being stared at by many pairs of dull eyes.

And he'd stared back. Recognising them all, he wondered why he was there. Their faces were all on wanted posters, millions of galleons on their heads. Did he too have a poster somewhere?

Harry didn't know. But out of everyone he recognised, only one man spoke to him. Rodolphus Lestrange.

He was the husband of Bellatrix, The Dark Lord's right hand. She was vicious, a harpy, she cackled at things that most certainly weren't funny. Harry could only imagine what her husband would be like.

"Hey kid," he wheezed out.

From within his cell, Harry looked up best he could. "Yeah?"

"What you in for?" The man coughed some more and Harry resisted the urge to call out for some water.

"Depends who you ask," he'd told him. "I on the other hand, am perfectly innocent."

"Sassy, I like it." He coughed again. "No man that has stepped foot in Azkaban is guilty."

His laughs filled the corridor. It sounded deranged, like he was a mad man. But Harry couldn't help but laugh at the irony.

"You make damn fine case," he had said once the laughter had died.

Rodolphus inhaled, "If I asked someone else what would they say you were in for?"

It was Harry who laughed this time, it echoed and sent him into more laughter. He lay down on the floor and laughed some more.

"Tell me what's so funny."

Harry closed his eyes. "I killed a dog."

Laughter bubbled around them again.

He was shaken awake, sweating and confused. He couldn't think, his mind was fuzzy and when he caught sight of someone standing over his bed he immediately flinched back.

His warm hand had shielded him from what he thought was a threat and he almost started mumbled protection spells but the threat jumped back.

"Hey! Hey, easy there!"

Harry scrutinised the perpetrator and saw that it was Theodore. He grumbled, "What?"

Theodore gulped and took another step back. "It's time for breakfast, you need to be ready in a few minutes. I didn't want you to be late. But err, w-what were you erm dreaming of?"

"Nothing special."

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes and then looked down at his clothes. His uniform seemed neat enough. He pulled on his shoes and then began his trek down to the Great Hall.

"Wait!" Theodore caught up to him quickly. "I thought it would be nice to walk together."

"Huh," was all Harry said.

They exited their dorm and tread through the common room. There were still many people about, mostly first years who were lost. But sticking to house unity, the second years had taken it upon themselves to help.

"So, what do you do for fun?"

Harry stopped and looked at Theodore. "Fun?"

"Yes?" He let out a nervous laugh. "Come on, I don't want to miss the bacon."

They carried on walking and it was when they were half way into their journey did Harry reply.

"I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"Fun. . . I don't know."

Theodore caught on, "Oh. Well there are lots of things you can do for fun. Like Quidditch, or duels or eating bacon."

Harry saw his new companion was eagerly making his way to the Great Hall but he stopped him in his tracks.

"W-what's Quidditch?"

Thedore gawped and immediately he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and dived into the nearest alcove. He whispered loudly, "Never say that to anyone else! Salazar's dirty washing! You can't say a thing like that!"

"And why not?"

"B-because! Just because! It's not normal!" Theodore was out of his depth here. He didn't understand anything; he swore the universe would implode. Then he could afford to have people ask him abnormal questions.

"Let go of me."

Theodore did as he was asked but he still looked exasperated. "If you ever have anything abnormal to ask again then ask me."

Harry nodded and the two entered the Great Hall, he never did receive an explanation as his companion had already sat down and started to pile up his plate.

He sat down next to him and noticed that Pansy had quickly joined them, Daphne shortly after. "How was your first night?"

He shared a look with Theodore before answering, "Just fine."

"Right," she looked unsure. "Snape should be coming round with our timetables soon."

"Timetables?" Harry asked.

"For our classes," it was Daphne who had answer this time. "How will it work for you? You've never had classes before, correct?"

"No, not here."

"So I wonder what will happen."

So did he, Harry spied McGonagall making her way over to them. In her hands she held a familiar bottle and a piece of parchment.

"Potter," she nodded in greeting and passed him the bottle. "I would like you to start with these basic classes. It comes from my understanding that you hide a lot of things."

Harry's lip curled, "Right you are Professor."

"Well take these classes with the rest of your eighth years and if you're finding it too hard we'll work on that."

She waited for Harry to drink the Pepper Up potion before leaving. He looked down at his timetable. It seemed easy enough.

Once everyone got their timetables they left, obviously sharing the same classes because there were so little students. It was Potions first, taught by his head of house. It was clear to Harry that Snape didn't like him much but he could see there was some effort being put into it so he couldn't really hate the man.

They arrived a bit earlier than starting time and sat in the seats that Theodore told him were reserved for their lot. But as students with different coloured ties walked in, he noted the classes would be smaller than he had originally thought.

Many had died in the war while he was fighting one of his own.

Shortly after everyone was seated, Snape burst through the door, his robes billowing behind him.

"Everyone put away your wands," he looked at Harry expectantly but after no movement his eyes hardened. "Potter where is your wand."

"Don't have one, Professor."

"How are you going to work in your other classes without a wand? Such insolence."

"Don't need one, Professor."

Harry found himself mildly enjoying tormenting Snape and seeing him grow paler as he became more irritated.

"Of course you need one; every wizard needs one even if they are able to cast wandlessly."

"I guess I'm an exception then, aren't I?"

Snape ignored him and flicked his wand at the blackboard. "There are the instructions. Proceed. Do not cause any havoc."

He eyed one boy with a red tie as he passed.

Theodore stood in front of Harry, "Need any help?"

Harry shook his head and waved his hand, the required ingredients lazily floated towards him. Within the hour, he'd managed to perfect the potion and come out top of the class.

He passed a scrawny red head on his way out mumbling about new kids showing off.

He smirked.


	5. Birds

**AN:** Yo, my chapters seem to be getting shorter and shorter oops. Anyways, I'll start revealing more of the answers to your questions don't worry. And my story probably makes F all sense anyway. Enjoy? ^-^

 **Chapter five: Birds**

The next class was one he didn't have much of an opinion on. He'd crafted together an image of the headmistress being appalled at his lack of wand and rushing him out to get one.

In no way did he need one.

Transfiguration was a subject he felt he could pass easily, and as the entire eighth year left in a pack, he started believing in himself more and more.

The students were commenting on how they thought the topic was getting harder and harder, how some of them had forgotten most of their spells after the war and they wondered how long it would take for them to learn them again. So when they arrived, Harry strolled confidently to the front while the other Slytherins lingered in the back of the classroom.

The students took their seats and Harry was accompanied by Abbott, the girl he'd met in the Great Hall. They shared a smile and then faced the front. Harry didn't fail to notice how people stared at the two of them while keeping their distance.

A tabby cat jumped on the desk that was sat at the front of the room. It sat their staring at them expectantly and Harry found his eyebrows rising a tad. "Animagus."

The cat jumped off the desk and Harry's view was blocked by one Minerva McGonagall. "You'd be correct, Potter."

She offered him a stiff nod. "Your lack of education won't bother you, I see that now."

The lesson commenced with the professor gesturing to the black board where she'd written extensive notes in cursive and drawn diagrams for help. Their objective was to start with a bird conjuring charm and then slowly work through the lessons to human transfiguration.

If Harry said he wasn't in the least bit nervous about that he would be lying. He didn't quite fancy himself as a teapot.

"I want you to repeat after me the name of the spell," McGonagall tapped the board where she's written the spell and its pronunciation.

"Avis," She said. "Ah-viss."

The entire class paused before repeating, rolling the word best they could before they were set off to work in pairs.

Without warning, Abbott grabbed Harry's arm and they settled themselves into a more secluded corner.

"Here should do nicely." She commented before taking out her wand. "Oh, and I'm Hannah by the way."

She grinned, the pink of her lips stretching far enough to hurt but she didn't wince. Harry offered her a small smile back, "Just call me Harry."

He wouldn't have shaken her hand but he assured himself that they were already quite acquainted and he needn't bother.

"Where is your wand?" Hannah frowned, her eyes preened at him.

"I haven't got one. Do you want to go first or shall I?"

His partner just glanced at him once more before repeating the spell several times. When she was confident enough, she tried it with her wand and replicated the necessary wrist movements.

Nothing really happened other than what looked like the beginning of a canary bird, before it gave one last 'poof' and disappeared.

"Ah you see, you need to move more precisely and flick the wand at the end. Like so." Harry pretended to pick up a wand and as he said, moved his wrists in a precise way, not forgetting the flick at the end.

What happened next caused Hannah's eyes to light up and awed expression settle on her face. From the palm of Harry's hand came a spark of blue light that quickly turned into several little birds that he charmed to flutter around the classroom.

Hannah let out a delighted squeal.

"That was amazing!"

Harry shrugged a shoulder, "Not really."

"On the contrary Mister Potter, do that spell after this level of education is difficult for many wizards, never mind a young boy on his first day. Let's not forget you don't own a wand!" McGonagall wore a tight lipped smile. "Take thirty points to Slytherin."

That was when he noticed the class had quietened down and were eagerly listening to what they were discussing. Gasps of, "He really has no wand!" and "Blimey, first day and all" reached his ears and he all of a sudden felt awkward.

The bell rung and thankfully it was break.

Harry quickly learned that Theodore wasn't one to beat around the bush. He straight up asked you questions and got frustrated when they weren't answered. Is face would scrunch up and his hair would get just a little messier and Harry actually felt as though he had killed his spirit.

"He's always like that," Pansy had laughed.

Though that wasn't hard to guess, he found himself wondering how much more of feeling guilty he could take. It was a feeling he was familiar with; being guilty.

It was one of the many tortures he had faced in Azkaban. Each time the Dementors came to him, they sucked the happiness from deep within his soul and he was left feeling empty but like he weighed like lead. He was left angry and sad and guilty and in pain. He cried a lot which had made feel worse. And on most nights he was forced to relive the shitty memories he'd collected since childhood.

But guilt was often a feeling he dreaded most because he had no control over the other factors.

Which is why he found himself staring holes into Theodore's head and his brain worked to figure out how to fix it. In the end he decided that he would grant him one question and he would answer the best he could. The excitement that filled the boy when Harry told him was enough to pass the time until he felt like his slate was mostly clean.

"I'm gonna think real hard about this, don't you worry." Theodore had told him and all Harry could do was feel worried.

He regretted his proposition immediately, thinking up all the bizarre questions his companion could ask.

When they walked into their next class, he planted himself right next to Harry and refused to move even when Harry almost lost his cool.

It was Defence Against the Dark Arts and he couldn't be dreading it more.


	6. DADA

**AN:** Heyy, sorry for the wait. Anyways, the more I write the more I come to see that there are going to be a lot of loopholes and a lot of things that don't make much sense so I'm writing this purely for the enjoyment now rather than trying to plan out something complex. Please enjoy! ^-^

 **Chapter six: DADA**

When Harry was younger he used to spend a lot of time ducking and hiding from his family so that he wouldn't get into trouble for reasons he couldn't even think up at that tender age.

His aunt and uncle would spit mean things at him, work him like a dog and expect him to follow a strict routine that he was supposed to do day in day out until he left their home.

Their child, his cousin, was the worst of all three of them. He was a bully in the flesh and within the soul. He often attacked Harry for no particular reason. Maybe he caught Harry looking at his toys or his large room or even his parents that spoiled him so. And out came chubby fists that wouldn't miss their target.

On many days Harry was left without medical attention and with his aunt showing him how to vacuum and wash the dishes; then leaving list after list of chores to do, he became quite exhausted.

He slept whenever he could, wherever he could as long as it wasn't in his cupboard but after a few years he grew used to it and sought it out for protection.

Harry had blown up one afternoon.

It was almost tea time and Harry was out in the garden, awaiting further instructions before his cousin and his cousin's friend had barged in. They'd name call and poke and prod; they'd do anything to get a reaction out of him. And when they mentioned about his lack or parents and how nasty they must be to abandon their baby, he'd lost it.

He'd screamed in anger and as he vaguely recalled, he'd felt a shift in the air. Before he knew it, he was left alone as the others had run away screaming about what Harry had done.

How he'd swore and them. How he'd used the 'M' word. How he'd threatened them with his cold words and even a knife.

The lies had bought Harry a lot of time to familiarise himself with his cupboard, and soon every nook and cranny had been etched into his brain and he was sick of being in there.

Time blurred for him back then, Harry would tell you. It went by so quickly, the little events mashing together in his brain and he wasn't sure what was true or false anymore.

He remembered being followed by a mouse or a rat whenever he was made to do the shopping. It would follow him there and back, sometimes watching even after he'd gone out of sight. Instead of being curious, Harry was feeling a little bit scared. He didn't like the idea of creatures following him around.

He also recalled bits and pieces of how he'd left his family.

He'd been around the age of ten and when he was given money to go into deeper London to buy his uncle's sister a birthday present, there'd been an opportunity to escape.

It had been quite empty, save for the odd adult or two, and Harry was feeling quite brave. He used the money to buy a bus ticket, claiming it was for his grandmother when she returned and was about to step aboard when he'd been snatched.

Frantically he looked around, he could've sworn there were more people there but he couldn't see any. So crying out as loud as he could, he wiggled and squirmed against the man's iron fisted grip. When he realised no help was coming, he started getting really antsy.

And then the man had been blown a few feet backwards.

Harry ran to safety of a neighbour on Privet Drive.

In DADA, Harry was careful in choosing his seat. He didn't want to appear too eager, or too disinterested. He didn't want to sit where he wasn't welcome but nor did he want to sit where he was welcome – with the Slytherins.

Theodore was sat with them so he couldn't take him away, it'd cause a scene. He couldn't sit near Hannah either because she was sat with her Hufflepuff friends and some of them looked liked they didn't take too kindly to his presence.

So he chose a spot right next to a bushy haired girl on the second row. It was just the two of them until a red head showed up. He moved clumsily, his mouth preoccupied with chewing on a quill – probably thinking about food, Harry chuckled – and when he spotted the bushy haired girl he sat down on her other side.

Harry didn't miss the curious look from the girl or the red head's blazing eyes giving him a once over. Sizing me up, he thought.

And then a shabby looking man walked in, his pale blazer hung off one shoulder and his shoes had a slight squeak to them. Harry and the bushy haired girl sat straighter.

"Good afternoon," he said tiredly. "I'm Professor Lupin and I'll be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

Lupin flicked his wand and _as if by magic_ the desks levitated and shifted off to the sides of the classroom, leaving students sat awkwardly in their seats. They got the idea though, and soon enough the chairs too were stacked off to the side of the room.

"The Disarming spell. Who can tell me anything about it?"

A hand reluctantly shot in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"The Disarming spell; Expelliarmus, is used to rebound an opponent's spell and hope that it hits them instead and renders them vulnerable to further attack."

Harry looked over at the bushy haired girl. She seemed tired too, so did the majority of the class. The professor offered a weak smile, "Take ten points to Gryffindor."

Lupin continued, "Now a lot of you may be wondering why we're revisiting this particular spell but I bet only a few can already perform it non-verbally."

A number of students shared glances and some looked cocky about their skills, Harry snorted. Hands down, he knew he could do it a damn sight better than half of these students.

"Find yourself a partner and practise, no cheating. The winner gets a piece of chocolate." The professor smiled to himself, as if it were a private joke.

The class paired off and Harry was left to face Granger. "Partners?"

"Partners," she echoed.

The two of them bowed and took three steps back. Harry tried to ignore his surroundings, he really did, but with all the cluttered furniture and the odd students giving them a look it was hard.

"Ready?" She asked as if she had asked it a million times.

She had that sort of tone you would expect an Auror to have, someone who had been through a lot. . . through war. Harry would bet ten sickles she was on the front lines.

He nodded and raised his hand. Granger stared at him strangely before raising her wand in an almost mirror image. None of them moved. But then Granger found her wand zooming across the room to him.

She let out a strangled gasp, "H-How? I didn't even see you move!"

He handed her the wand and simply said, "Again."

Harry repeated this again and again and again until she managed to shoot a ray of light at him and he stumbled backwards. He offered her congratulations before leaning against the wall.

"Congratulations to you both. Take ten points each," Lupin was stood watching them. "You did great."

"Thank you, Professor." Granger smiled.

Lupin turned to Harry and stared into his eyes, leaving shortly after. But Harry got the message. He always did.

 _Your family would be proud of you, we all are._


	7. Come home with me?

**AN:** I am so sorry for the wait. And the shortness. I had actually tried to upload this like a month ago and then because it wouldn't accept I forgot about it until now. Oops! Please enjoy ^-^

 **Chapter seven: Come home with me?**

Mrs Figg was by no means an unpleasant woman but after several weeks of living with her after pleading not to go back to his family, he wanted to get away from her too. He could only take so much cake and browsing through her dead cat pictures.

"Of course," she assured him, "they weren't dead when I got them."

Which Harry had known, naturally. But she insisted on telling him even the littlest things she could remember about her cats, as they spent a considerate amount of time doing this. He didn't care if one of them was spotty or stripy, or even looked like it had a moustache, he wanted the cat talk to stop.

And it was on the third week there – almost _thirty_ days, he'd cried – that there was a knock on the door and Harry was terrified it was his uncle Vernon coming back to claim him for some ungodly reason.

When Mrs Figg waddled back in, he was surprised to see a young man trailing behind her. He was tall, but not too tall and he wore boots that made his pants look holier than the Bible. He looked ragged but his attitude drowned out those thoughts and he offered Harry a grin, shaking his hand without asking first. He didn't know whether to think this man rude or not.

"This is Sirius Black, Harry, a friend of your father's." Mrs Figg had said this in a kindly tone, offering the man a drink before quickly turning away.

"Parents," the man corrected.

Harry stood up, not even reaching his stomach and eyed him warily. "You knew my parents?"

Sirius smiled and sat down, crossing his legs. He looked deep in thought, serene actually. "Yes. We were the best of friends, James and I, Remus too."

He flushed when mentioning the second man but Harry didn't ask why. Instead he questioned why he was here. A fresh cup of juice was shoved into his hand as Mrs Figg returned, a stumble in her step.

"After a custody battle with the Ministry, I finally managed to get to adopt you!" A wry grin. "This is going to be awesome!"

Even Mrs Figg spluttered at this but then she relaxed her shoulders, his reasons were hopefully justified. She couldn't imagine Albus letting this happen if he knew things would go wrong. She stared on as the younger boy seemed to mull this over before looking up and nodding.

"So it's settled then!" The grin never left Sirius' face after that and Harry couldn't help but join in too. Harry had packed what he had with him and the two were well on their way to a magical place that only filled his wildest dreams. Waving a hearty goodbye to his last carer, he didn't look back from there.

Even as Harry's memories came back to him piece by piece, he was often confused. For a long time he had forgotten about these things, even the smallest of them. He compared them to the things that his friends told him about growing up. The difference was pretty much shocking.

Theodore was sat next to him, mumbling about how Christmas was rolling round the corner – even though it's still September, Harry reminded him – and how he would be sent home to attend many balls.

"What's so bad about that?" Harry asked, picturing people dancing.

"The guests!" Theo complained. "They're cocky and walk like peacocks and treat me like I'm a child! _Harry, hold me!_ "

He'd just managed to shift in his seat before Theodore had collapsed on him. He grumbled but made no effort to hold him, making himself more comfortable. "Theodore, I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Worse!"

Harry felt the vibrations of his friend talking into his shirt and squirmed. "Your breath is so hot."

"That's not the only thing that's hot."

"What?"

Theo sat up, "Nothing!"

They shared a look before staring off in other directions, both in deep thought. Nothing was said for a while before the topic of Christmas was brought up again.

"What're you doing for Christmas?" He leaned into Harry, resting his feet on the arm rest.

"Staying here."

"All alone?"

"Guess so."

They were silent again and Theo felt his mind racing with ideas. What if Harry came home to stop his boredom at the Christmas balls? Or what if he persuaded his parents to stay at Hogwarts? The second option, though friendlier to everyone, didn't seem plausible.

"Will you come home with me?"

Harry stared at him, simply raising an eyebrow in question.

"For Christmas, t-that is."

"Sure."

"You will?!"

Theodore sat up in excitement, it rolled off him in waves and Harry felt a pull of magical energy as his friend whizzed out of the common room and into the dorms. He'd shouted that he was going to owl his parents.

Harry found himself chuckling, before his eyes closed and he drifted off.


End file.
